This time Sringa-Bhuja felt no fear or hesitation, for he was sure of the power and will to help him of his promised bride.  So back he went to the field, and there he found the whole vast space covered with millions and millions of ants, busily collecting the seed and piling it up against the wall of the town.  Again Rupa-Sikha came to cheer him, and again she warned him that their trials were not yet over.  She feared, she said, that her father might prove stronger than herself; for he had many allies at neighbouring courts ready to help him in his evil purposes.  “Whatever else he orders you to do, you must see me before you leave the palace.  I will send my faithful messenger to appoint a meeting in some secret place.”

Agni-Sikha was not much surprised when the prince told him that his last order had been obeyed, and thought to himself, “I must get this tiresome fellow out of my domain, where that too clever child of mine will not be able to help him.”  “Well,” he said, “I suppose the wedding must take place to-morrow after all, for I am a man of my word.  We must now set about inviting the guests.  You shall have the pleasure of doing this yourself:  then my friends will know beforehand what a handsome young son-in-law I shall have.  The first person to summon to the wedding is my brother Dhuma Sikha, who has taken up his abode in a deserted temple a few miles from here.  You must ride at once to that temple, rein up your steed opposite it, and cry, ’Dhuma Sikha, your brother Agni-Sikha has sent me hither to invite you to witness my marriage with his daughter Rupa-Sikha to-morrow.  Come without delay!’ Your message given, ride back to me; and I will tell you what farther tasks you must perform before the happy morrow dawns.”

When Sringa-Bhuja left the palace, he knew not where to seek a horse to bear him on this new errand.  But as he was nearing the gateway by which he had gone forth to sow the field with seed, a handsome boy approached him and said, “If my lord will follow me, I will tell him what to do.”  Somehow the voice sounded familiar; and when the guards were left far enough behind to be out of hearing, the boy looked up at Sringa-Bhuja with a smile that revealed Rupa-Sikha herself.  “Come with me,” she said; and taking his hand, she led him to a tree beneath which stood a noble horse, richly caparisoned, which pawed the ground and whinnied to its mistress, as she drew near.

“You must ride this horse,” said Rupa-Sikha, “who will obey you if you but whisper in his ear; and you must take earth, water, wood and fire with you, which I will give you.  You must go straight to the temple, and when you have called out your message, turn without a moment’s delay, and ride for your life as swiftly as your steed will go, looking behind you all the time.  No guidance will be necessary; for Marut—­that is my horse’s name—­knows well what he has to do.”